Jun 29, 2008

IA feather swirls point down,The water below expects it,But moves on any way.

IIShe makes a right turn,Just to bubble and swirl around a few stones and a small tree.She quickly puts a mile behind her.She calms and pulls herself together.

IIIShe comments to herself that it is a wonder that she has this much of herself to pull together,Considering the lack of fain this month.Rushing along she passes below old Johnson Bridge."The 1849's built that bridge,But it was more like a 1849'er,Mr. Johnson, the banker.The beams had to be replaced last year.I should know,I'm the one that goes around them,And who crashes into them.

IV"Good bye Bubbles.""Good bye Johnson.""Besides Bubbles, the others that pass by on a regular bases is Mr. Johnson and his grand kids,They come by every Sunday afternoon to walk and pick flowers.The flowers usually come from the meadow on the eastern side of me,The town is to the west.(FYI)

V"Meadow! I'm more than a meadow!I'm Rose Park.Come the 4th of July and New Year's,I'm the most popular place in town.""A Meadow indeed!"

Jun 28, 2008

I saw every thing that once was tangible.My friends, the places I had been and the things I did,Become dated, memories.My memories began to fade

I felt the cup in my hand at that time.I felt the grains,I knew the color of it was blue.I felt the color blue

I drank the water from the tap,It tasted much better than it did earlier

Part Two

IWith history heavy in my lap.I stretched a hand forward and opened it

I saw her blue eyes which were crinkled at the edges,Looking back at me.Her hair was stuck in a persuasion to go east

My hand moved upwards again to move the hands of time.I turned the page over to see us together,And smiling like a couple of twelve year olds at the age of twenty something.Our poses were also reminiscent of juvenile beings

I closed it then,Not wanting to feel anymore,Because I was not ready to believe

III got up and went into the kitchen,With the intent to clean.I already had two plates in my hands,That I brought from the table.I place them in the sink,And reached for the two glasses that still stood on the counter

I saw her lipstick on the edge of the glass,Where it half enclosed a tiny flower.I remember ten minutes ago."I walked through the door just in time to hear the phone ring.I thought she called to tell me that she forgot something at my place.It was her brother "Hi Jimmy!".He then told me in sobbing detail.

I put the glass under the faucet,And with some soap I erased her.Water slid out of my face,As I said "Good-bye."

I stood on my front porch and watched as its red tail stuck up from behind the trees and it's growling shook the ground on which I stood. I knew that it was him. He was leaving. He did not tell me good-bye. I watched as the tail traveled down its path and its roar got louder. It felt as if it was screaming for the sky and earth to accept it. But it was not the one who was asking. He was declaring that he was taking to the sky, and that you were being warned.

I stood there and hoped that he could have seen me. That I would cry. That I would be entrusted with the screeching decibels for the tearing of my heart. That he would look down from the heavens and see me standing here as the rain began to fall, saving me the embarrassment, of being seen crying.

But his winged creature carried him away from me. And when it finally lifted him up into the sky, I could not be seen. I did not cry, my heart gave a little murmur. It knew that something happened. And that sweet rain, that cold rain, did not come. It did not help in my act of moaning.

Was it waiting for it to happen a second time? Was it waiting for him to return? For me to raise my hopes that he might realize that I was worth having? That he would come looking for me? For me to realize that he was here for three months and that he did not once came to say hello? Was it waiting for the day that it sinks in and I'm wondering one cold night by the bay?

I will stood there looking out at the sea and once again I see his plane as it carried him off. My skirt was being picked up by the wind, and my legs started to feel the biting sting of sand. The night air got colder and the smells around me become one. The scent of rain. It was coming. With my head held high and my feet not hurrying to carry me away, I felt it first on my back. Then it fell on my head, and it worked its way down to my heels.

As the heat was slowly being forced from my body, I forced tears from my soul. I had to cry. I had to heal. If I held on to what he did to me I never will. It would just be another sob story to tell someone. I will heal this, and no one would know that he was here. In my heart. That he tore it and left me asking "Why?". My chest shook and my cries got louder. I knew that no one was around as I fell to my knees and cried. I was not just crying because of him anymore. I was crying for all the times that I didn't. For everyone that I had ever lost or missed, and kept it inside. For every disappointment that I just made light of.

From one girl to another she was telling me that it was all right to cry. I listened. Mother and child cried that night. When it was over I walked home. We were both cleansed. Me of aching wounds and her of the smudges man had placed on her.